


see all the colours (in disguise)

by solitariusvirtus, tenten_d



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, House Targaryen, Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-11
Updated: 2013-11-11
Packaged: 2018-01-01 04:51:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1040546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/solitariusvirtus/pseuds/solitariusvirtus, https://archiveofourown.org/users/tenten_d/pseuds/tenten_d
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Naerys and Aemon Targaryen have a complex relationship. From the moment he first sees her Aemon becomes her protector, and Naerys grows up loving him. Inevitably, they become bound together by fate and their own actions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	see all the colours (in disguise)

**Author's Note:**

> A 'what-if...' sort of story. Why? Because I simply love Aemon and Naerys.

_i_   Naerys Targaryen is a frail babe. Her older brothers see her only weeks after she is born. Aegon is not impressed with the tiny bundle and soon leaves for another room. Aemon, on the other hand, is transfixed. He begs his mother to hold the child. The boy smiles down at her kindly. His sister's tiny face is scrunched, as if she's in pain, but her skin is pale and she does not cry. When he asks his mother, the woman brushes his hair back. "No, my darling boy, she is no longer in pain." But his mother's bright eyes are wet.

"I'll protect her from any pain," Aemon declares. Baby Naerys whimpers then, a soft sound. Aemon rocks her gently. "Nothing will ever hurt you while I'm around.

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_ii_   Aegon grows to be a cruel boy. He is forever picking on Naerys, making her cry. Aemon keeps his promise as best he can against their older brother. Aegon is bigger and stronger and most often the victor of their skirmishes. But Aemon doesn't give up. He places himself between Naerys and Aegon, hoping to bear the brunt of his brother's anger. For Aegon is always displeased with something.

Mother can do nothing but chastise the boys for fighting as Naerys holds onto her skirts. Viserys, their father, is too much absent to really discipline his firstborn. Father is the King's Hand and has better things to do then seeing to the well-fare of a sickly girl like Naerys. She is not expected to survive, after all. Thus, they do not even have her engaged to Aegon but to Aemon. Aegon is heir, so he is set to marry their cousin Rhaena by King Daeron's decree. _(Aemon is very, very pleased with it because Naerys has always been more his than Aegon's.)_

So it is that Aemon and Naerys grow up together, her always clinging to his hand a little too tightly, and he snarling a little too ferociously at anyone who dares to upset her. Aemon loves his little sister as much as she loves him, and anyone with eyes can see it. They don't wonder at the gentleness of his handling of Naerys, nor at the admiration always shining in her eyes. They hold hands and share sweets, and they are happy children. 

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_iii_   Five and ten, barely a man, Aemon truly kisses his sister for the first time. It's not one of those touches of lips to her cheek. He kisses her like he's seen his older brother do to too many women to count. Naerys is not resisting. She's almost a woman too at one and ten. True, she's not yet flowered, but she does know her own feelings for Aemon.

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_iv_   When he is knighted, Aegon's younger brother is seven and ten. Naerys is three and ten, and delicate as ever. He is a man by now and she a woman. The world knows them to be close to marrying, so no eyes widen when he tucks a flower in her silver hair or when she clasps one of his large hands in her small ones. Naerys, even at her age, is a petite, slender thing. She looks forever young in the eyes of all. None would think her three and ten is they did not know the date of her birth.

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_v_   Aegon teases her especially. He flaunts Rhaena in front of his sister in hopes of bringing her sadness. Their cruel brother tells her she's not pretty or good enough.  _(But he's just jealous, Aemon knows. He wishes Naerys would have been his. Not out of love for their sister. Never that. No, Aegon is a selfish, greedy person.)_ Rhaena is a golden woman, she is soft and rounded in all the right places. She knows when to smile and when to frown. Naerys feels she cannot compare. And it hurts the most when Aegon says that even sweet Aemon is charmed by her.

_(He isn't, of course. Aemon respects Rhaena, but he does not long for her. It is rather that she reminds him of his mother. Rhaena Targaryen does not hold a candle to his sister in Aemon's eyes. Naerys will always be the loveliest woman for him. )_

It breaks Aemon's heart to find his sister crying in the gardens. "Don't weep, sweet sister," he tries to comfort her. His kindness only seems to make her pull back from him. She resists him embrace and fights his words with a viciousness that is completely strange for her. "Naerys." What has been done to his dear sister, he wonders.

"Let me go!" She trashes in his hold, lilac eyes filled to the brim with pain. She can't have him holding her, kissing her, knowing that all the while he thinks of Rhaena. "Don't touch me! Go and take Rhaena into your arms." Nerys is a soft creature to her very core, and those words hurt her more now that she's spoken them. Aemon lets go of her and she knows it is all over. He'll leave her. Naerys' hands rush to his. She does not want him to ever leave her.

Staring at her tearstained face, Aemon bites back a mouthful of curses. He knows only Aegon could be responsible for this. "I don't care for Rhaena," he tells her, there is an unexpected sharpness to his words. "Aegon can have her for all I care. I only want you! It is you I love." Rhaena is an unfortunate soul that will greatly sufferat his brother's hands. Aemon can do nothing to stop that. Naerys is his main concern, and the Others take everything else. Rhaena, Argon, their father, the whole bloody kingdom, they all mean nothing to him without her. 

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_v_   When she's finally a woman grown the High Septon weds them. Baelor is now King.  _(He isn't much of one, for all the love the people give him. Baelor the Blessed is not made for the weight of the crown.)_  Aegon glares at them from his place next to his wife, Rhaena. Ellaena is present too, along with Baelor's sister-wife, Daena.

Aemon speaks his oaths loud and clear. He means each and very single word that leaves his mouth. His sister-wife will later tell him that she though he shone brighter than the sun that day. Aemon will swear that the moon shied away from her loveliness late in the night.

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_vi_ The ribald jokes ring in his ears along with the coarse laughter coming from the hall. He doesn't disguise his distaste for such japes, but he doesn't let them affect him either. Instead he stares at his newly wedded wife with adoration and something else; something primal and wild as the fire in their veins.

Naerys stands before him as naked as when she was born. Her silver hair falls over her shoulders, skin slightly flushed. She watches his wide-eyed, but not frightened. After all, she trusts in him to care of her. Aemon feels the hunger for her twisting in his stomach like a vicious blade. The sting is both painful and thrilling. He wants to love her slowly, to worship her as she deserves. He will be kind to her, Aemon promises himself. Naerys will know only consideration from him.

Yet as he pushes her gently to her back, hands exploring her bare form, Aemon finds that something in him is more animal than human. He is a dragon of House Targaryen, and being gentle is a conscious choice. His wife is pliant and warm underneath him. Naerys voices her pleasure with small sounds, her arms clinging to him tightly. She presses her nails into his scalp as he gives attention to every part of her that he can reach. They grow frenzied, urgent in a matter of mere moments. He moves with intent, and Naerys urges him on unabashed and unashamed of her longing. Aemon spreads her thighs apart and drives into her. Naerys breaks with a small cry, but otherwise holds still. He soothes her as best he can.

They move in a tangle of limbs, their breaths mingling. Lips search and lips offer encouragement. Hands are everywhere, pressing, kneading, caressing. There is fire enough in this dance; a dance as old as time itself. The push and pull of their motions goes on and on and on, seemingly endless.

_(Aemon had experienced this a thousand times over. He has seen Naerys come apart underneath him in many dreams. But nothing can compare to the reality of it, of her. She is simply delicious as a partner, and he is enthralled.)_

There is blood on the sheets after, and soreness in her lower body. But Naerys does not think past the fact that she is finally where she has always wanted to be. She straddles a sleeping Aemon with one leg, while her lips seek his. Her husband is undisturbed, so Naerys closes her own eyes. The Seven be praised for they'd given her the one thing she wanted most. She shudders to think that there are those who do not have this.

One of his arms comes tighter about her as if to chase away any unpleasant thoughts. He always knows when she has need of him. None of them stir past that. They are content to lie abed, to share the afterglow and perhaps have each other one more time before they must face the world. 

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_vii_  Daeron is born as Rhaena's babe dies. Naerys is damp with blood and sweat. She has barely managed to get her child into this world and keep her own life. She feels so very weak, and she's in pain. The ache subsides only when the babe is placed in her arms and she can see him. Newborn and howling at the top of his lungs, her son makes it known that is displeased, perhaps hungry. He sucks on his mother's breast even as his father enters the chambers looking pale.

Aemon bends over his wife and child, peering at the tiny being nestled in Naerys' arms. He kisses her forehead, patting back a strand that has remained stuck to her temple. He is in awe. This woman and him, they have created a life together. "He is perfect," Aemon whispers over the child's head to Naerys. The mother beams back at him warmly. Aemon wonders if she knows how much he loves her, it is more than he thought possible.

_(Daeron is the spitting image of his father. He is barely a week old when the King summons them to see the babe. Naerys begs Aemon to refuse, even when she knows it to be folly. But she can't stand Rhaena's haunted eyes or Aegon's frozen looks given to his lady wife.)_

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_viii_  It is only after he's sure she is uninjured that he pushes her back against a tree, the rough back biting into his hands and her own flesh. There is no gentleness in the way he kisses her. Aemon lifts her into the air, stepping between her parted legs. He is tall and slender but her thighs still have to open wide to accommodate him. Her arms instinctively wrap around his shoulders and she glues herself to him. His reaction is visceral; Aemon grabs at her legs, forcing her knees to bend and brings them around his waist, her skirts hiked up. Naerys grasps and lets out a whine of surprise as he presses into her. "Aemon!" Her fingers tangle in his hair. "Aemon," she whispers in his ear. Those small sounds that leave her mouth make him lightheaded, drunk with desire. Naerys continues to whisper to him through the haze.

Leaving her mouth, Aemon's head drops to the space between her neck and shoulder. He breathes in her scent, pressing open-mouthed kisses to her skin through the silk of her dress. Likely she cannot feel it thoroughly through the material but she reacts nonetheless. Naerys exhales, clutching him as close as she possibly can. Aemon bites into her shoulder, not sharp. Her scented hair falls forward, a curtain that hides his face. "Naerys, my sweet Naerys." He says her name over and over again as if he's not angry, as is he didn't go half-mad at the sight of her falling off that damned horse. The beast spooked, it threw her off and Aemon's heart stopped. But she's here in his arms, he can feel her breathing, living against him. "Don't ever scare me like that again."

The horses graze a bit away from them. It is only Naerys and him in the grove. Aemon pulls away and sets her back on her feet. Naerys makes a sound of protest at the loss but does not move to stop him. Her feet feel new and unsteady. She fears she'll fall to the ground and not be able to get up ever again. The chilly air makes her tremble, she quite misses his heat against her. "I'm fine. I am not hurt." There is a dull ache in one of her shoulders and her back, but she chooses to ignore that. She can ignore that. She barely even felt the pain when his mouth was on her. Naerys winces at her own lies. It does hurt. Yet the pain is nothing to what she's felt when bringing Daeron into this world.

Suddenly there is a sharp pain in her abdomen. Naerys is brought to her knees with a scream of pain.

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_ix_ The master can do nothing but give her milk of the poppy for the pain. Aemon hold little Daeron but his eyes have not left Naerys' face. She is still sobbing, dry and raw, from her throat. Her dress is still stained with blood, but thankfully she does not lose a drop more. However her unborn child has not survived. It is because of the fall she took, the master says, looking at her pityingly. Aemon gives him coin and sends him on his way. Naerys needs time to grieve, so does he.

The Septa takes Daeron and leaves the boy's parents alone inside the chamber. Aemon helps Naerys off the bed and out of her soiled clothes. He disrobes her with an acquired gentleness. The heavy cloth of her dress falls to the floor along with her small clothes. Aemon takes off his own garments. Then he directs her to the bathtub, swiftly joining her. Neither speaks; they can't.

The warm water covers them, and Naerys leans back into Aemon. For the longest time he rubs her skin soothingly. There is hardly any comfort to be found in the gesture, but at least she is not alone. Naerys thinks that she can feel his tears on her shoulder.

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_x_  It is years later, after Aegon takes Daena to be his Queen and has many children by her, that Naerys has another child of her own. This time it is a girl with silver hair and deep violet eyes. They name her Daenerys for the new Queen. Rhaena has died in her latest attempt to give Aegon an heir. Nothing came of it. But Daena has a son that Ageon claims to be his own, and a few other daughters. The boy's name is Daemon. Him and Daeron are of an age. But where one is born a warrior, the other is mellower.

Daemon spends a lot of time with his cousin as they grow up. He dotes on Daenerys as he might on one of his sisters. The mother smiles indulgently when she sees him sneaking sweets to the girl, and says nothing. Daenerys is a child begotten in the autumn of her life and all the more precious for it. Naerys does her very best to see her daughter happy. She will typically allow Daemon to play with her out in the gardens. Daeron is much taken with his books and prefers it when his sister is claimed by their cousin.

Aemon on the other hand is less lenient. Naerys laughs at him for worrying and reminds her husband that Daenerys will be well protected by Daemon. The father scowls lightly and murmurs under his breath. He can see very well what will happen. "They are like us, Naerys." Of course that is not completely true. Daemon has his own paramours to warm his bed, and Daenerys is but a child next to him.

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_xi_   Aegon's son is crowned King, and he wears the crown with pride. He looks much more like Daena, with his straight silver-gold hair and purple eyes, his tall built and slender frame . His shoulders are broad, ready to carry the burden placed on them. That he chooses Daenerys Targaryen for Queen surprises no one but the girl. Daenerys looks to her father and mother for approval. Naerys has a smile on her lips, and Aemon nods his head in encouragement.

Truth be told, Aemon has had his suspicions for the longest time. Daemon, with his charming smiles and handsome face, has been pursuing Daenerys since she has bloomed as a woman. Aemon knows what it is to wait, and Aemon knows what it is to love. There is none that can deny his daughter is loved by Aegon's son. But it is still hard to give her away even so.

Naerys touches his arm gently, laughter in her eyes. "She will want for nothing at his side," she tells him. "They are like us, remember?" Because never has Naerys ever wanted anything more than what she's been given in her marriage. She's known the love of a wonderful man and has been given children to love and nurture. Naerys thinks herself lucky, the Seven have watched over her.

Her daughter, she hopes, will be equally blessed. She prays that Daenerys will know the happiness of holding her own child someday soon,that King Daemon will not be remiss in his duties and will see to it that a smile always graces Daenerys' lips. "They are exactly like us."


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